Colors of the Heart
by Phantom Gypsy
Summary: Four years later. When Satoshi Hiwatari meets an enchanting young musician, he struggles to learn how to trust and love another human being. But her secrets and his past will make it difficult for both of them.
1. Colors of the Heart

The ocean was alight with fiery hues of purple and orange and gold, but the canvas on the easel was only grey and white. Satoshi looked up from his drawing. It depicted the scene before him; the sun slowly setting over the sparkling ocean, casting twilight upon both seaside cliffs and shoreline. A few clouds drifted in the darkening sky, thinning as the wind stretched them from end to end. Yet his sketch lacked a certain...glow. The real world was a palette of changing color; exquisite in its shades of pink, amber, scarlet, blue and violet. There were even colors for which there was no name. However beautiful and warm the scene before him, the young man was still rather fond of his colorless pencil drawing.

The 18-year-old breathed in a deep lungful of salt air and sighed. From up on the retaining stone wall, he could see the entire beach below him, giving him the perfect viewpoint for his portrait. Not far from him was a break in the wall where a wooden ramp gradually sloped down to the sand. There was a place at the bottom for people to park their bikes or rinse off the sand and salt water in a cold shower whose faucet didn't always work.

Satoshi spotted something in his drawing, some dimensional flaw that only a masterful artist could see. He picked up his pencil to darken a particular wave, then stopped.

Just offshore, something was drifting in the ocean's current. His blue-grey eyes narrowed. It was a person, a woman. She was floating motionless on her back, arms stretched out to either side. He watched her bob around for a little while longer, until a heavy rock seemed to hit the bottom of his stomach. What if she needed help? What if she was hurt?

He argued with himself longer than he probably should have, but finally put down his pencil and stood, just in time to see her swimming back to shore. Shaking his head, Satoshi sat back down, wondering if he was either gullible, paranoid, or simply foolish. At least now, no one else would know.

Resuming his sketch was suddenly very difficult, now that he had been distracted by the woman below. Every time he went to draw, his eyes wandered down to her and he began to notice something strange. She swam effortlessly back to the shoreline, but even when in the shallow water, she never stood. She only rolled onto her back with her arms propped behind her and looked out at the setting sun. Satoshi thought twice about adding her to his canvas, his neck craning slightly. It was an old habit that always gave away when he was thinking hard. His father learned to recognize it; even Daisuke sometimes called him on it.

She moved again before he had a chance to outline her pose. Satoshi had to blink a few times to make sure he was seeing correctly. Instead of standing and walking, she was lifting herself on her hands and dragging herself backwards. Her limp legs left perfect parallel trails in the sand; a trail, he realized, that was already etched there. When she was halfway across the beach, he knew her shoulders had to be aching. Yet despite such a strenuous way of moving, she did it with surprising ease. Lift, drag, and drop. Like she had done it all her life.

Then he saw the wheelchair. It was parked near the bike rack, under the rickety old shower. Having forgotten about his drawing, Satoshi continued to watch, somewhat guiltily. The young woman swiftly hauled herself onto the wooden boardwalk and then pulled herself up into the seat of the wheelchair. She sighed tiredly and wrung the water out of her dark, crimson hair. Satoshi's artist eyes caught the details of her face, the tiny droplets of water glistening on her skin, each wrinkle in her drenched suit.

She threw a dry tunic over her bathing clothes and turned away from what was left of the sun, steadily wheeling her way up the ramp. Satoshi quickly averted his eyes, glancing back at his portrait. With a slight sigh, he realized it was finished. His inspiration for it was no longer alive. Or rather, it had changed.

The woman, perhaps a year or so older than himself, caught eye of the easel as she moved past. Satoshi tensed.

"That's amazing," she said, turning so she could see it properly. "I almost thought it was a photograph. Did you do that with only pencil?"

Satoshi shrugged. "Well, a couple different kinds of pencils."

Her gaze passed from the canvas to Satoshi himself. She quickly glanced him over, from his pale blue hair to his collared shirt and black slacks. By the time he turned to look at her, she was smiling at him.

"It's beautiful."

Satoshi hated praise. He never knew how to react to it. So he grabbed for a pencil and twirled it in his fingertips.

"Thank you," he muttered.

"Of course." She pivoted her wheelchair around. "Take care."

He waited until she was some distance away before looking back at her. Her long hair cascaded down the back of her wheelchair, still dripping diamonds from the ocean.

_It's beautiful._

Satoshi watched until she disappeared from view. Then he grinned to himself.

There were streaks of gold in her burgundy hair.


	2. Angel

Satoshi left the police building earlier than usual one evening, so he could enjoy the summer evening while it was still light outside. The cool breezes coming off the ocean carried the scent of mowed grass, the sounds of crickets beginning their nightly chorus. As he walked the sidewalks of downtown, he remembered how, years ago, he used to hate twilight. He had dreaded the night, because it was harder to fight off demons—or angels—alone in the darkness. It had made it impossible for him to see how beautiful a time of day it really was.

Halfway to his apartment, Satoshi caught the sound of music drifting on the salty air. He looked up from the sidewalk and stopped. Since the city was built layered into a hill, he could look down and see the all the way to the oceanfront. Just before the retaining wall that bordered the sea were the Townhall Gardens. Quite a few acres of land had been donated to the city to build a nature park and now, in the midst of summer, everything was in full, drastic bloom. A single cobblestone path snaked its way through the bushes and flowers and ancient oak trees. In the center of the gardens was a white pavilion that was slowly being overtaken by the green vines of morning glory and ivy.

Satoshi traced the music to the pavilion, where a small orchestra group was playing for the hundred or so people sitting in fold-out chairs. Even from a few blocks up on the hill, the crisp sound of the violins and cellos tugged at his heart. It was, after all, an ancient and classic art that his ancestry wouldn't allow him to resist.

With his hands stuffed firmly in his pockets, the young man meandered down to the pavilion. He noticed the closer he got, the sweeter the air became, perfumed with the scents of thousands of flowers. As one song ended and the audience erupted into applause, he slipped in among the crowd and scurried over to a tree, where he leaned against its thick trunk and sighed.

The next musician took center-stage and Satoshi felt his lips part in wonder. On the pavilion was the woman in the wheelchair from the week before. She parked herself in front of the audience and graciously dipped her head towards their applause. A young man swiftly handed her a cello and she waited for silence to fall, her bow poised across the strings.

Then she played.

It was as if a spell befell the spectators. No one so much as sneezed during the entire solo and Satoshi found his eyes riveted to her presence. She never opened her eyes, blindly caressing the cello with such fluid grace, he almost wondered if instrument and musician melted together. Her dark crimson hair was pulled back and she wore a periwinkle blouse that sparkled with sequins each time she moved.

He was still drinking in the ambience of her performance when she pulled the bow across the strings one last time and a single, haunting note lingered in the summer air.

The crowd immediately broke out into cheers. Satoshi watched in awe as the audience rose to give her a standing ovation. She certainly deserved it, he thought, yet his hands remained still at his side.

An older woman holding a violin walked up to the microphone stand in front of the pavilion.

"We'd like to thank you for joining us tonight. We hope you enjoyed yourselves, because we always do and we appreciate all your wonderful support. Please help yourself to the refreshments and hors d'oeuvres and thank you so much for coming. Drive safe!"

"Hiwatari!"

Satoshi almost jumped. Looking around, he recognized a familiar redhead making his way towards him.

"Oh, Daisuke. I didn't know you were here. Hello Miss Harada."

Riku smiled as she came up behind Daisuke. Satoshi glanced them over quickly, taking in Dai's handsome evening clothes and Riku's sporty little black dress, and grinned. Apparently it was date night.

"Aren't they amazing?" Riku's voice was glowing with excitement. "They make it look so easy! I wish I could've learned to play an instrument like that."

Daisuke gave her a sweet look. "You could still learn if you really want to."

"Daisuke's right, you know," Satoshi said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the tree. "It's never too late to learn something new." The orchestra started playing again, a soft, light tune to dismiss the crowds.

"Easy for you say," Riku muttered. "Being boy genius and all."

Satoshi just grinned at her.

"We were just about to grab some dinner," Daisuke said. "Would you want to come with us?"

The blue-haired boy almost laughed at Riku's put-out reaction. Daisuke had grown into quite the young gentleman, but he was still as scatterbrained as ever, forgetting tiny, crucial details. Like what actually comprised a "date."

"Nah, I better pass. Thanks, though."

The two boys stared at each other for a brief moment. Their friendship had only grown deeper over the years, bonded by a powerful secret. Scars and laughs and experiences only they could share. Riku and Risa were always sympathetic about what had happened all those years ago, but they could never fully understand. They could never truly appreciate what it felt like to see your persona mirrored in another person standing before you.

"Ri—Riku, what are you doing?"

Daisuke danced around, his arms up in the air as Riku searched his pant pockets for something. "What was her name...Dai, quit moving around! What'd you do with it?"

"With what?"

"With the program!"

"Oh, it's here."

He pulled out a yellow piece of paper from the inside of his jacket and handed it to her. Satoshi watched as her eyes greedily scanned the paper.

"Ah, here." She pointed at a line. "Renée Hart."

"Oh yeah, she was incredible."

Satoshi frowned. "Who's she?"

Daisuke looked back at the pavilion, as if reminding himself. "She was the cello player in the wheelchair."

"It says she recently moved from England. She's a piano teacher, too."

The redhead elbowed his girlfriend. "See? There's your chance. I bet as good as she is, you'd learn in no time."

Riku shook her head, smiling. "Knowing me, I'd get frustrated if I couldn't learn 'Mary had a Little Lamb' the first time and quit. I think I'll stick to my sports, thanks."

Satoshi looked back out at the pavilion. In his mind, he replayed the image of her floating in the ocean, her hair glittering gold in the sun.

"I guess we'll see you later, then," Daisuke said, letting Riku half-pull him away. "You sure you won't come?"

Satoshi closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm sure. See you later."

"Bye, Hiwatari!" Riku waved a quick farewell and the two disappeared into the departing crowd.

Allowing himself a small chuckle at his hopeless friend, Satoshi sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Then, for whatever reason (that he partially blamed on the intoxicating sweetness of the flowers), he left his spot by the tree to seek out Renée.


	3. Perhaps

Satoshi left the police buildi

Back behind the pavilion, there were several long tables draped in white tablecloths that flowed in the evening breeze. This was where he found her.

Of course, a sizable party had also gathered around the buffet tables, so finding her sitting figure amongst the taller crowds was not exactly easy. Satoshi stopped just outside the ring of people surrounding her. She was cradling a bouquet of roses in her lap and gently hugging the young girl who had given them to her. He watched as she graciously talked with the girl's parents, nodding and smiling on cue. She was quite pretty with her dark hair and pale, smooth skin. Long, slender eyebrows showed off her crimson eyes, so deep they almost looked black. But it was her flawless smile that ensnared him most of all.

Satoshi thought twice about approaching her, suddenly intimidated. Slouching with his hands in his pockets, he angrily wondered why he was even here in the first place.

"Mr. Artist."

Her distinctive accent cut through his thoughts. While his stomach took a nosedive into his feet, he forced himself to watch as she wheeled herself over to him.

"Satoshi," he said and offered a hand. She took it, smiling prettily.

"Renée. It's nice to see you again."

He knew the expression on his face must've been one of painful discomfort. It was giving away how he wished he was back at his apartment, out of sight and out of mind from people in general.

"You failed to mention you were also an artist," he said, his voice disguising his unease.

"Well, I don't know if I'd label myself an artist, but I guess you're right. I use a bow, you use a paintbrush."

"Regardless of the medium, it's a very beautiful talent you have."

He saw a faint blush surface to her cheeks. "Thank you. It's...I enjoy it."

"How long have you been here?"

"Oh, a few months. I just needed a change of scenery from the damp bleakness of London. And I love the ocean here. It's actually warm enough to swim in."

"London. That is quite a change. Do you plan to stay?"

She shrugged. "I would like to. But at the same time, I try not to plan anything. I find things rarely happen accordingly." He nodded and couldn't help but wonder if she was vaguely referring to her paralysis. "I'm sorry, did you want anything to drink? Or eat? They only brought in an entire year's supply of food."

"No, thank you. I just wanted to introduce myself before I left."

Renée looked slightly crestfallen. "I'm glad you did, Satoshi. By the way, you have something on your shoulder there."

He reached up and grasped something thin and soft. Twirling it in his fingers, he stared at the single, white feather in disbelief. She smiled. "A gull's feather, perhaps?"

He didn't answer straight away. Instead, he continued to stare at the feather as if it were the eighth wonder of the world.

"Hm...perhaps."

Renée blinked. He handed it to her casually, as if she had dropped it herself. She nimbly took it from him and tried to ignore the feeling of her fingertips brushing against his.

"Goodnight, Ms. Hart."

"Goodnight."

He left without another word, his face as smooth and cool as window glass on a winter morning. Renée looked at the feather in her lap and grinned. In all her life she had never been so perplexed, yet so enchanted at the same time.


	4. Silent Melodies

"Now put your hands like mine. Here, put your pinky here. There. Just like that." Renée gently rearranged her student's tiny hands on the piano keys until they mirrored her own. "So do that a few times every day and it'll help make this little guy stronger. Think you can do that?"

The girl nodded. Out of the corner of her eye, Renée saw a block of white as someone walked into the studio room. The sunlight split across the floor for a moment, then vanished as the door closed.

"Ms. Hart?"

She smiled at the girl next to her on the piano bench. She was all brown eyes and long, dark curls. "Yes, Ayame?"

"Did...um, did you like your flowers?"

"Yes, I love them very much. I put them in a big vase and they're sitting next to my bed, so I get to look at them every night. So thank you, sweetie."

Ayame beamed and threw her little arms around Renée's neck.

"Hey, Kaori," Renée smiled at the woman patiently waiting on the other side of the piano. Like any decent mother of four children, her salt-and-pepper hair was a tangled mess, the purse was hanging haphazardly off one shoulder, and she was panting like she hadn't breathed all day.

"Did you have a good lesson?" she asked, running a hand through her daughter's hair.

"Mhm!"

"Good. Why don't you go get in the car; we have to go get your brother from baseball practice and then maybe we'll go get some ice cream."

If it was possible, the little girl's eyes suddenly doubled in size and she took off for the door, skipping as high and as fast as she could.

"Here, oh Bringer-Of-Good-Tidings" Renée gathered the girl's practice books and handed them to Kaori. "Don't forget these."

"Thanks, Renée. Oh, and here's your check for this month. Glad I thought of it on my way out the door this morning. I'd forget my head if it wasn't on my neck."

"Oh, thank you."

As she went to slide the check in her notebook, the white feather slipped out and glided onto the floor. Kaori picked it up and chuckled.

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but...had you met Hiwatari before? Before the concert, I mean."

Renée frowned. "Satoshi?"

"Yes. Satoshi Hiwatari. Never mind. Apparently not, or you would've known his full name."

"Well, no, I hadn't really met him," she said slowly, taking back the feather and replacing it in her daybook. "Why?"

The other woman shrugged. "Oh, it was just sort of...funny. I guess it's just because Hiwatari's never exactly been a people person. He's always been kind of standoffish and quiet. A real introvert. I mean, he has some friends from his childhood, but he _never _just openly talks to people, so when I saw him introducing himself, I just thought it very odd of him."

"Curious," Renée said. "Because I thought he was quite...cordial, actually."

"Exactly, and that's what's odd."

"Oh. So...is he in school?"

"No. He's—well, you'll never believe this, but he's the police commissioner."

Renée's jaw dropped. "You're kidding. He can't be much older than I am."

"Apparently he's some sort of Einstein brainiac. He kept it a secret for a while. It

wasn't until after he completed high school that we all learned he'd already graduated from a university."

The young musician stared at the black and white keys of her piano. "But why?" she wondered aloud. "Why would he go through school twice?"

"Mom!"

Kaori looked back at the girl standing in the doorway. "I know, I'm coming! Listen, I'd better go. Does next thursday work again? Same time?"

Lost in thought, Renée was slow to respond. "Er, yeah, sure. That should be fine."

Kaori was already halfway to the door when she waved goodbye. "Great, I'll see you then! Thanks again, Renée!"

"Cheers."

The heavy door closed with a resounding _bang_ and the studio fell silent. For a long while she sat in the still quiet, watching little particles of dust drift in the curtains of sunlight. After her thoughts had floated in her head for several long moments, she reopened her book to schedule Ayame's lesson for next week and penciled in the time. Immediately, the feather she'd been using as a bookmark caught her eyes. Slowly, deliberately, she picked it up and spun it between her fingers.

The police commissioner.

She brushed the feather against her forehead, closed her eyes and smiled grimly at her luck.


	5. Keys & Notes

The blue-haired boy was dressed in grey slacks today.

Satoshi sighed heavily as he left the building, a thick messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. It was heavy with paperwork to be reviewed, but it didn't even account for nearly half his workload. Most of it was waiting for him in his email inbox and in the twenty or so phone messages that he refused to listen to, largely because he didn't have the two hours or so that it would take to respond to all of them. It was days like these that he felt a certain nostalgia for years past. What had happened to scheming against and hunting a worthy enemy such as Dark? He missed the thrilling game of cat-and-mouse that tested his wit and stamina.

His skin was drinking in the warm rays of the sun after being trapped beneath the florescent lights all morning. He was more tired than hungry, but decided that he owed it to his body to eat lunch since he had skipped breakfast.

In the downtown plaza, he grabbed a quick sandwich and sat at one of the picnic tables beneath a birch tree. As he ate, he watched the world swirl around him. People came and went, the breeze gusted through the plaza, stealing napkins and papers in its wake. Out on the ocean, he could see tall, white clouds beginning to tower upward, casting dark shadows on the blue waters. Perhaps it would rain later.

A ripple of crimson caught his eye. Halfway across the marketplace, he spotted Renée wheeling herself through the crowds. There was a content, graceful look on her face, as if she hadn't a care or worry in the world. Satoshi repressed the acrobatics that his insides were trying to do, annoyed that he could do nothing to control this...this effect.

She disappeared from view. He thought once, twice, and then he stood from his seat, grabbed his bag and made to follow her.

He was cursing to himself the entire way, using some of the more colorful oaths that he had learned at college. It was ridiculous and pathetic. Had he really been reduced to stalking a crippled woman in a wheelchair? Why couldn't he just let her go? And what was with these damn...butterflies in his stomach?

Satoshi followed her until she came to a nondescript building that looked in desperate need of a renovation. He kept his distance, watching from behind a corner as she pulled the heavy door aside with some difficulty and steered herself inside. For a brief moment, he hesitated. Finally, when the sun cooked through his black vest and collared shirt and a thin sheet of sweat broke out across his forehead, he walked over to the building.

Slowly, he stepped inside the doorway and a fresh, air-conditioned wind breezed through his hair. The door clicked shut behind him.

He froze.

Renée was sitting on the piano bench with her back to him, her wheelchair parked not too far away. Sweet music drifted through the air. He could see her hands dexterously flirting across the keys and he ventured a few more steps into the room. The melody was classic; he'd heard it before. But unlike the cello piece, this seemed more intimate. Something she only shared with the piano. She played it so beautifully, so gently. Satoshi wondered...could this be what the colors of the human heart sounded like?

"It's a good thing you're not an undercover detective or anything," she said aloud. "Cause you're really bad at sneaking."

Satoshi blinked while Renée smiled at him from over her shoulder.

"Is there anything you can't play?" he asked and walked over to her.

"The drums," she said simply. "And I can't ever truly play the piano." The young

man frowned. Sensing his confusion, she motioned to the pedals by her feet. "It'd be like night and day. Here. Sit."

Satoshi sat next to her. She couldn't help but grin at his uptight posture. "Now steadily count to four...one, two, three, four," she snapped her fingers to demonstrate the tempo. "Every time you count to four, hold your foot down on the pedal."

Renée's fingers barely seemed to touch the piano when she played. It almost distracted him from pressing the little golden pedal under his shoe. There was a definite change in the music—a graceful lingering of each note that made the melody meld and flow. It was easy to get lost in.

Somewhere in the midst of the piece, Renée reached in front of him to dance on the higher keys, her shoulder brushing past his chest. She hardly seemed to notice, so Satoshi pretended to do the same.

Her fingers fell heavily on the last chords and they waited together in silence until the last faint echo of the music dissolved into the air around them. Satoshi took his foot off the pedal and glanced at Renée. There was that enchanting smile on her face.

"Hm. I miss that." Without pause, she started playing again, something light and slow and pretty.

"So then...it wasn't always this way for you?"

"No. It's been about two years. My dad and I were on our way to a football match. The semi-truck didn't see us."

"And your dad?"

She looked up at him and shook her head, a faint, sad grin on her lips. Satoshi went back to staring at her hands, suddenly feeling as though someone had crumpled his heart like a piece of paper and thrown it in the corner.

"I'm so sorry."

"Things scar over with time." Satoshi thought of the long, black marks between his shoulder blades and grinned. "Where'd you learn to draw?"

"Er, call it a family talent."

"Are you the heir of Leonardo da Vinci or something?"

Satoshi chuckled. _Oh, if only she knew. _"Something like that."

"Then why police commissioner? You don't usually see someone with your kind of talent choose law enforcement over the arts."

He shrugged, assuming she must have researched him on the internet. "I guess because that's what I've always done. Ever since I was little, my step-father—encouraged—me to join law enforcement."

"But do you enjoy it?"

"Sure. Anything is better than being a starving artist anyway. The drawing's just a hobby."

Something on Renée's face told him she wasn't convinced.

"I see. And your step-father...is he...?"

"He passed away a few years ago."

"It wasn't during that incident, was it? I heard that a couple years ago this town suffered a pretty big earthquake or something."

"Yeah. It was, actually."

"I'm sorry. It's hard, isn't it? To have someone taken out of your life so suddenly."

Satoshi couldn't answer, knowing it would make him sound heartless if he said no. He'd been grateful for everything and everyone that had been taken from him in the last few years. In exchange, his life had been returned to him.

"I'd probably better get going," he said, pulling himself away from the piano when she stopped playing. Renée runs a hand through her hair, trying to erase the dismay off her face.

As Satoshi passes by the wheelchair, he notices the feather lying in the seat. Intrigued, he picks it up. "You kept this?"

Renée's cheeks flushed the color of her hair. "Oh, I was just—it—yeah. Don't ask why."

Satoshi looked up at her, his periwinkle eyes finding a way to pierce right through her chest.

"You have a feather fetish?" he asked, a small smile on his lips.

Renée laughed. "No. I couldn't tell you why."

He placed it back in the wheelchair, his eyes lingering on it for a moment before he said,

"Would you...would you like to do this again sometime?"

Renée smiled. There was no way to hide the pink blush warming her face now. "Yes, I would. But perhaps without the stalking bit."

Satoshi chuckled. "Deal."

He crossed the room to pick up his messenger bag. Just before he got to the door, he glanced back over his shoulder, that small smile still in place.

"See you later, Renée."

She nodded. Once alone in the studio, she bit her lip and giggled.


	6. Surrender

_**Two Months Later...**_

__It was hot.

And not the uncomfortably warm kind of hot, but the heat—waves—baking—off—the—asphalt—made—him—regret—wearing—a—black—shirt hot. Wiping the sweat off his brow, Satoshi decided he was definitely more of a winter person. Snow was clean and quiet and no matter how cold it got, there was always another sweater to be donned or fire to sit next to.

The quaint neighborhood was lush with the full blooms of crocus and honeysuckle. He glanced at the houses around him as he walked, grateful when he strolled beneath the cool shade of an ancient oak tree. Most of the homes were old and tiny with paint peeling off some of the shutters or entire front doors taken over by ivy vines. Everywhere he looked, Satoshi saw potential scenic portraits; the kind of paintings that people would stare at for hours trying to decipher the story behind the little brick house with a dilapidated chimney and dog sleeping in the front yard.

As he turned the corner onto another narrow side street, the phone in his pocket buzzed. He fished it out of his jeans and flipped it open, smiling when he saw the number. The message from Renée was simple.

_**Gone Swimming**_.

Shaking his head, Satoshi turned around and headed back the way he came.

Lying on her back, Renée closed her eyes and let the waves gently float her back to shore. Hot as it was today, even the ocean was like bath water, but it felt good to be wet and weightless. As she drifted with the tide, she thought of the waves rolling beneath her back and how far they had traveled to lap this stretch of beach. Miles? Hundreds of miles? Thousands? Had a dolphin once been playing with that bit of seaweed wrapped around her wrist? Was this the same wave that raged as a tropical cyclone halfway across the world? She could never fathom the idea.

Her head brushed against the course sand in the shallow water. She laid there for a moment, swaying like a piece of kelp, reluctant to haul herself out of the sea.

"I'm gonna start calling you Ariel."

Renée smiled. When she opened her eyes, she found a silvery blue gaze looking down at her. It was hard to pinpoint the color of his eyes. Sometimes they were pale grey, other days they were a vibrant ice blue. Most of the time they matched his periwinkle hair, but she had learned to never call it such. Apparently, no man wanted to be praised for his "periwinkle" hair.

"You look...well, I dunno how else to say it." She grinned. "Hot and bothered."

"No kidding." He ran a hand through his hair. "I believe that would be your fault."

Renée laughed and pushed herself up so she was sitting. "No, it's not my fault you decide to wear long-sleeved black shirts on days like today."

"I thought you said you liked black."

He held out his arms, as if to show her that he wore it just for her. She had to admit, his faded blue jeans were a pleasant change from his drab collared shirts and slacks. It had taken time and much gentle persuasion, but she had seen a gradual change in him. He was no longer stiff as a board when he sat beside her on the piano bench and his somber, heavy brow gave way to smiles more often. He joked and played a little more, without sacrificing that proud, flawless grace she always admired him for.

A laugh was still something she had not heard. A true, deep-hearted laugh. And perhaps it was because of that same proud grace that she revered so, but he remained wary of physical touch. He never said so, but Renée sensed his nervousness, like a dog that had been hit too many times.

"I do," she said. "It looks good on you. But it's not worth having a heat stroke."

Satoshi smiled, then frowned when he felt the phone in his pocket vibrate. He glanced at the screen, recognized a number from work and shoved it back in his front pocket. A few seconds later it vibrated again, but he ignored it, knowing it was just a voicemail.

She started hauling herself backwards with her arms, then stopped at a peculiar sound in his voice.

"Renée."

"What?"

He just looked at her for a moment. Like so many unnamed expressions he gave her, she couldn't discern whatever flickered in those eyes of his, but something did. Something that had a direct effect on her heartbeat.

He walked over to her and knelt down, enveloping her in his grasp before she realized what he was doing.

"Satoshi...Satoshi, wait—!"

Carefully, gently, he cradled her with one hand behind her back, the other beneath her knees, and lifted her from the ground. He grinned when she threw her arms around his neck.

"I insist," he said.

"But you'll get soaked," Renée protested, regardless that he was already trudging through the sand with her nestled against his chest.

"Good. It'll help cool me off."

She grinned at his answer. With her face only inches from his and her hands tightly clasped around the back of his neck, she tried to keep her gaze anywhere but on him. The only problem was that it was impossible. If she wasn't looking at his face, she was eyeing his neck. If she wasn't staring at his neck, she was watching the lean outline of his muscles beneath his black shirt. No matter where she looked, her cheeks heated into a vibrant pink.

After what seemed like eons, they reached the square section of boardwalk where she parked her wheelchair. He gently set her down into its seat.

"There. Not so bad, was it?"

Renée let out a nervous laugh. "No. No it wasn't. It's just...it's not everyday you surrender yourself to someone like that."

Satoshi blinked. Surrender?

Before he could delve into the idea too deeply, his phone buzzed. With an annoyed sigh, he yanked it out again and checked the number. It was from work. Again.

Renée noticed. "You sure are popular this evening."

"Just a bunch of idiots back at the office."

"Maybe you'd better take care of it then, or they'll keep pestering you all weekend."

Satoshi frowned as he read the text message. "Yeah...would you mind?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then you go ahead. I'll meet you at the concert."

Renée gave him a reassuring grin and wheeled away. The young police commissioner looked back down at the glowing words on the screen, his frown deepening when he read it again.

_**Found something you should see. **_


	7. An Empty Seat

The theatre was alive with music.

It was as if it had replaced the air in the grand hall, penetrating every pore of the spectators and making the dim lights dance within the diamond chandeliers. Renée's face was lost in her music and her eyes were closed to better listen to her cello and the sounds of her fellow musicians. They were still a small group of only about five or six, but when the music called for it, they made it sound like an entire, full-fledged orchestra.

Renée smiled oddly as she slowly strung her bow across the cello. That strange, sort of half-grin that suggested she was in some distant, beautiful place deep in her heart. What she couldn't see was the boy sitting several rows back, his hair matching the vibrant red theater seat.

Daisuke couldn't keep from smiling. The music was magical and to watch her face was like…well, he couldn't compare it to anything other than the way certain paintings transfixed him.

The music took on a different, light-hearted tone and the boy's grin only doubled in size. Renée now looked out in the audience as she played, her arms lovingly draped around her cello as she played. Beside him, Daisuke felt Riku grasp his hand. It was infectious, he thought.

The final chord cut short and the crowd erupted into deafening applause. Riku shot up out of her seat to give a standing ovation, her hands clapping furiously. Daisuke did the same, if in a more calm fashion. Whistles and cheers and wordless shouts bombarded the performers on stage, each of whom gracefully bowed and smiled in kind. Renée caught sight of Daisuke's stark hair and dipped her head towards the couple. Her smile waned a bit when she didn't see Satoshi.

As if it were some untold cue, the curtains swept shut and the lights illuminated the theater, sending the crowds into spirited conversation.

Riku turned to Daisuke. "They're all so good! It's like…like being transported to a different era or something. I feel like I should be in a big ball gown with those long gloves and pearls, you know?"

Daisuke chuckled. "Then maybe you should next time, if that's how you feel."

"Yeah, right. You know me. I probably couldn't make it out the front door without tripping over it."

"Either way, I'm sure it'd be a sight to behold."

Riku didn't know whether to playfully slap his arm or take it as a compliment, which is probably what he wanted. She gathered her miniature purse and slung it over her shoulder, pausing when she saw an odd look on the redhead's face.

"What's wrong?"

"You didn't see Hiwatari at all tonight, did you?"

"No…" she glanced around, as if searching now would suddenly reveal him. "But he could be anywhere."

Even as she said this, she doubted herself. The massive swarm of people was beginning to file out of the theater, a sea of bobbing black and brown heads. Blue would've been easy to spot.

"Maybe Renée knows," Daisuke murmured. Riku heard the unease in his voice.

"I wish you wouldn't worry about him so much," she said. "He is a grown man after all and can take care of himself. Besides, you know Hiwatari. He likes to come and go a lot. Maybe he wasn't feeling well or something."

Daisuke gave her a gentle smile and reached for her hand. He didn't say it, but that was exactly what he was afraid of; Hiwatari in pain.

"Come on. Let's go find Renée."

Some twenty minutes later, they eventually found her chatting with a friend backstage. When she spotted the two of them, she excused herself from the conversation and wheeled over to them. Daisuke noticed there was no blue-haired boy by her side.

"Hey, Daisuke. Hi Riku."

"Renée, you're amazing!" Riku exclaimed, bending down to hug her.

Renée laughed. "If that were true, I'd be playing at Carnegie Hall. But thanks, I'm glad you enjoyed it. To be honest, I messed up loads of times. Bit of an off night."

"But we were never able to tell," Daisuke told her.

"You couldn't, but believe me, my duet partner could. I think he was ready to kill me by the third piece."

She gave a short laugh and ran a tired hand through her hair. Daisuke frowned. He hadn't known her for very long; only a few months at most, but it was enough time to realize something was wrong in the way she acted.

"You haven't seen Satoshi, have you?" she asked.

Riku looked cautiously at Daisuke.

"No," he said, worry flickering in his rose-colored eyes. "I—we thought you might know."

She shook her head. "He said he'd meet me here. He had to go check on something at work, but he hasn't called or anything." As if hopeful that she was wrong, she pulled out her cell phone and checked it for messages. Finding none, she sighed.

"Maybe he's sick?" Riku suggested.

"Maybe…I guess I'll call later and see. It's just…not like him."

Daisuke almost nodded. There was a distinct hurt in her eyes, but it wasn't nearly as distressing as the way she anxiously toyed with the edge of her skirt.

"Do you want to come grab some dinner? Or dessert? We could go make an ice cream run," Riku said, keen to break up the dark mood.

"Thanks, Riku," Renée smiled and placed a hand on each wheel of her chair. "But I'm more tired than anything. I think I'll call it a night."

Daisuke was hesitant to leave. "You sure? Do you need a ride?"

"Thanks, but I'm all set. See you later."

"Bye."

"See ya."

Riku waited until she was out of earshot.

"She's almost as bad as you."

Daisuke said nothing. Placing his hand against the small of her back, he escorted her back out into the theater. Like something that became clearer as it neared the surface of water, he saw an old image redrawing itself in his head; a young boy brought down on all fours, clutching a pair of broken glasses in his hand.


	8. Breathless

Sitting alone in the dark kitchen, Renée stared at the steaming cup of tea in front of her and thought twice about going back to bed.

The sun hadn't risen yet, but the sky was beginning to fade into a pale grey that just barely seeped in through the windows. With a heavy sigh, Renée sank deep into her chair and covered her face in her hand. She hadn't slept at all. She'd spent most of the night checking her phone, disappointing herself each time when there was those awful three words: no new messages. After attempting to call him twice, she finally gave up and went to bed, just to stare at the ceiling for the next 6 hours.

She glanced at the digital clock on the microwave. 4:29.

What was he doing? Where was he? Had there been a real emergency at the police station? But even if there had been, surely he would've let her know. Maybe he had been in a car crash and was lying in hospital bed, hooked up to ventilators and plastic hoses feeding him fluids, drip by steady drip. Renée shivered. She knew that image too well.

Now that her heart was flapping wildly in her chest, she took a sip of tea to steady it. Letting the warmth spread through her, she checked the time again.

4:47.

With a resounding _thud_, she slammed her elbows on the table. Today was going to be a long day.

Maybe…maybe Riku was right. Maybe he was ill and his phone died and she was just being—as her mother would say—a paranoid ninny. Knowing Satoshi the way she did, it wouldn't surprise her if he was just craving solitude. Even with all the changing and growing she had seen in him, she could never expect him to be someone he was not. He could never be the outgoing, energetic, wear-his-heart-on-his-sleeve character like Daisuke. He was Satoshi; quiet, thoughtful, and a bit of a loner, but unbelievably kind…even if he didn't know it himself.

The doorbell rang.

Renée froze. Who on earth dropped in at five in the morning? She peered down the hallway towards the front door, trying to imagine who was on the other side. Then a thought came to her. Perhaps it was Daisuke, the only one she knew who would actually "forget" the appropriate time of day to call or visit. Maybe…could he have heard something about Satoshi?

It rang again.

Renée wheeled herself across the wooden floor, pausing at the intersection of kitchen and living room to turn on a light. It brightened the room somewhat, but mostly highlighted the dark shadows that lurked in the crevices. She held her breath as she reached up to unlock the door. With Daisuke's name on the edge of her tongue, she opened the door, letting in the cold breeze of morning.

He had one hand in his pocket, his shoulders were bent under some unseen weight and his hair was a crumpled mess. A tuft of bangs hung over one side of his face, narrowing his gaze into one, deep violet eye.

"Satoshi."


	9. Splintered Lies

Renée's brain scattered into a thousand different thoughts. In the end, she didn't know whether to be more worried about his gaunt face or the fact that she wasn't wearing anything other than a camisole and her pajama pants.

"You look…haggard," she blurted. It could've been the odd lighting in the pre-dawn hours, but she couldn't mistake the fatigue in his eyes, or the way he seemed slightly hunched over.

"Hey," he said simply. "Do you mind if I come in?

"Sure."

Renée moved aside, fearing the worst as she watched him walk in with a stiff gait. He stood in the middle of the small living room and surveyed the room with a critical eye. Renée slowly wheeled past him.

"Do you want anything? Something to drink or eat? I could make breakfast."

"No thanks."

She took a second glance at him. His clothes were rumpled, as if he had slept in them, but what unnerved her most was his violet gaze. She had never seen it so intense before, so…suspicious. And it was contagious. Renée watched him warily. Not once since he'd stepped inside had he given her so much as a glance.

"What's wrong, Satoshi?"

"I'm sorry I didn't make it last night," he said, suddenly staring at the carpet beneath his feet. "I…I need to ask you something." Renée frowned, but waited for him to continue. Finally, he looked up at her. "Who's Jocelyn White?"

Renée felt her heart literally stop beating. "What…why—"

"Last night," he said, "officers were looking up the records of a drunk driver they arrested. In his background check, they found he'd been involved in a car accident in England a few years ago. Two people were pronounced dead at the scene. John White and his teenage daughter, Jocelyn. Your picture came up."

"That's what they called you about," she whispered.

"Yes. So…how is it possible? Who are you really?"

She heard it. She heard the strain in his voice, which had been perfectly composed up until a second ago.

"I…" she said slowly. "There's nothing I can say to make you believe me. You'll just think I'm mad."

"Just tell me the truth."

She stared at him hopelessly. The truth? The truth was ridiculous, even to her, and she couldn't bring herself to speak it.

"Why is that so hard?" Satoshi asked, confused and frustrated. "Why can't you just tell me your name?"

"Why can't it be what I say it is?"

"Because it's not true!" She flinched at the sharpness in his voice. "And if that's not true, then what is? How am I supposed to trust anything you say if I don't even know who you are?"

She couldn't say anything. Her tongue lay dead and heavy in her mouth, her eyes locked onto his tormented expression.

"Tell me," he said, his voice so quiet she barely heard him. "Tell me who it was that I've spent the entire summer falling in love with, even if it was only a lie."

It was as if his words sliced open a dam. Tears stung at her eyes, more painful than a thousand stinging wasps and she bit her lip to keep it from quivering.

"No, Satoshi," she whispered. "Your feelings can't lie to you."

He bowed his head and closed his eyes. "I know. And that's probably what's most painful of all."

The young man turned to head for the door without ever meeting her eyes again. She counted the steps he took, each one like another splintered crack on an icy pond. Just before he reached the door, she spotted the white feather lying on the kitchen table.

"Do you believe in angels?"

Satoshi took a sharp breath and stopped. He glanced back at her over his shoulder, frowning.

"What?"

The woman in the wheelchair stared down at the floor, almost as if in defeat. "Angels. If I told you they denied me my death, would you believe me?"

Satoshi froze, every muscle beneath his skin seizing up. Suddenly, he thought he preferred the lie to the truth.


	10. Mistake of an Imperfect Artist

"That's…what are you saying? That you actually died?"

Still standing in the doorway, Satoshi swallowed his heart back down his throat and watched her carefully.

"I know," she said quietly. "It doesn't make any sense. By all means, it should be impossible, but that's what happened. He sent me back."

Satoshi felt bile rising in the back of his mouth. _He?_

The young woman in the wheelchair continued to blankly stare at the feather on the table. "Of course, I couldn't return to the life I had. Not after they'd identified me at the scene and buried me at my funeral. It would've driven them all mad. So I started over with what the angel gave me: this body…it's a bit broken, but not too bad of a replica, is it?"

She started to grin at her joke, but saw the grim expression on Satoshi's face and decided against it. Maybe she was more insane than she thought.

Then she spoke softly, as if to herself,

"Apparently not even angels can mend everything."

_ Because he's not an angel_, Satoshi thought. _He's an imperfect artist. _

"I'm sorry, Satoshi," Jocelyn whimpered, tears beginning to fill her eyes again.

Satoshi cut her off. "Did the angel say anything to you?" There was a cold and calculated tone in his voice.

Jocelyn blinked. This was hardly how she had expected this to unfold. Most people would've been shocked or laugh at her in disbelief, but Satoshi…it was almost as if he was analyzing her answers, waiting on edge for a certain response. Then again, she reminded herself, Satoshi wasn't most people.

"Only a little. He knew my name. He folded me into his great wings and said something I couldn't understand. Then he…he called me his 'everything.'"

"No."

She barely heard the word. Looking up from the white feather, she watched the color drain from Satoshi's face, his lavender eyes wide with fear.

"What?"

"No, that's impossible. He can't be—he didn't say that."

Jocelyn frowned. His eyes…it was as if he was staring through her, seeing something other than the woman in the wheelchair. She was almost afraid to move.

"Why?" she asked, unsure if she wanted to be heard.

"Because he didn't!" he shouted. The sound pierced her bones, chilled the blood around her heart. "He doesn't exist! He's gone! There's no way this is possible!"

Jocelyn sat for a moment in silence, stunned.

"The angel…you know him?"

"He's not an angel," Satoshi explained, voice cracking. His stared at the feather while he spoke, "He's…an artistic spirit. A soul that should never have existed in the first place. A few years ago, we sealed him away so that he could never return to this world."

"Sealed him away? Why? What did he do?"

In a trance-like daze, he walked over to the feather and took it in his grasp. Slowly, he began to crush it in his fingers.

"He destroyed people. He took their lives from them and gradually killed them."

A single, cold tear leaked from the corner of her eye. There was such tortured pain in his voice, as if he knew this firsthand.

"But he gave me mine," she said. "He gave me my life."

"In exchange for what?" Jocelyn suddenly found herself at the mercy of two cold amethysts, each one drilling holes into her very core. With a small gasp, she realized what he was implying. "What did he want in return? Your loyalty? Your help to release the seal on him?"

"No," she breathed. "He never asked me for anything."

The feather disintegrated in his hand and he turned on her.

"Don't lie to me, Jocelyn!"

"I'm not!"

"He would never simply grant you your life and the fact that you're here proves it! What are the chances of you and I meeting unless he intervened? He brought you back for his own reasons! So what was the plan, Jocelyn? You get your life and he gets his? Befriend me until my guard falls, so he can finish what he started?"

"No!"

"He's using you! He's using you and you don't even know it! You don't know what he's capable of! What he'll do to you—to me!"

Jocelyn watched in horror as he slammed his fists on the table and cried out. No tears; just a wordless, strangled cry.

"Dammit!" he choked, his fingers clutching into the tangled mess of his hair. "Why is this happening? Why? I was finally free. I was…finally…"

For a long while Jocelyn couldn't move. She stared at the black shirt stretched across his back and wondered how long it had been since she last breathed. Even if she had the use of her legs, she doubted she could've walked across the room like she wanted to. On the floor beside Satoshi were the remnants of the feather, scattered like white ashes that had not yet burned.

She didn't remember moving across the room, nor did she recall exactly when she had reached up to touch him. The second her fingers brushed his shoulder he jerked away.

"Don't touch me." Jocelyn winced. "Just please…please leave me alone."

He turned and walked down the hallway, never raising his eyes to look at her again. Jocelyn watched his retreating figure through a curtain of hot tears.

"But—"

He stopped at the doorway. Jocelyn was grateful he didn't turn around.

"Why did he call me that? His 'everything?'"

"He didn't." She blinked. "That's what he used to call me."

Satoshi closed the door behind him. The first light of dawn broke through her kitchen window and rained golden light upon her skin, glinting off her tears like diamonds.


	11. A Fool's Miracle

_**Two Weeks Later…**_

"Hey, Hiwatari! Oh! Oh no!"

Satoshi turned just as a sheet of paper blew into his face. When he managed to peel it off, he saw the redhead frantically chasing the dozen or so other papers that were being scattered to the wind. A few bystanders managed to snatch a few, but not before Daisuke had performed what looked like some sort of hoedown dance in front of the entire town as he desperately seized the notes out of the air. Satoshi allowed himself a small smile. The kid was hopeless.

With a handful of crushed papers like a horrible bouquet, Daisuke waved over at Satoshi.

"Hey!"

"Niwa." He handed Daisuke the crumpled paper he'd caught. "Did you get all of them?"

"Thanks. I think so," he said, stuffing the sheets into the messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Then he turned those big, crimson eyes onto Satoshi. "Where have you been? I've been trying to call you for weeks, and the officers at the police station said you hadn't been in a while."

Satoshi rested his elbows on the retaining wall that overlooked the ocean. He closed his eyes and softly smirked.

"As busy as you are with colleges classes and work, I know you have other things you should be more concerned about."

"But…I was worried about you," Daisuke said, sounding slightly hurt. "You can't expect me to not worry about my friends. Especially when they just vanish for a few weeks."

"I guess not," Satoshi murmured.

The sun was unusually bright today. Or perhaps it was because he hadn't seen it in such a long while. As he watched it sparkle on the cresting waves, Satoshi admitted it felt good and warm to have the sunlight on his back, but the reflection made his head hurt and the world seemed a glaring, loud blur.

"To be honest, Niwa," he said, looking down at the sand twenty feet below rather than out at the horizon, "I haven't been feeling that well. So I've been working a lot from home."

"Oh." Daisuke took a second glance at his friend, frowning when he noticed the pallid tone of his skin and the thinness in his cheekbones. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little."

The redhead hesitated a moment. "Is…did something happen with Renée?"

Satoshi chuckled. _So the fool isn't such a fool after all._ "I guess I can't hide anything from you, can I, Niwa?"

"Oh, no, I just—" Daisuke threw up his hands, suddenly flustered since he had guessed right. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want. I just couldn't help but notice—but it's really none of my business after all and I'm sure that you—"

"It's ok." Daisuke blinked. "It's probably not just you that's noticed anyway. I'm sure the whole town has realized it by now. Renée and I…we've gone our separate ways, is all."

Daisuke cast his gaze down to his feet, hair and eyes wilting when he heard what he had suspected all along, but was somehow hoping he'd be mistaken. In that instant, he could almost hear the gates resurrecting around Satoshi's heart, the cold mask falling back into place after so many years of having allowed it to fade.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

Satoshi gave him an odd look. "Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

"Well, because it's never easy," Daisuke said, leaning over the retaining wall. "And I guess…I just really liked Renée. You seemed happy with her."

Satoshi said nothing. Instead, he kept his eyes focused on one point on the horizon and listened as someone approached them from behind.

"Excuse me." An older man tapped Daisuke on the shoulder. "Is this yours? They said you dropped some papers and I thought it might belong to you."

Daisuke's face lit up like a holiday tree when he saw the last page of his notes in the stranger's hand.

"It is! Thank you so much! I really appreciate this!"

For a brief, bitter moment, Satoshi was visited by the urge to gag.

"No problem, young man." The white-haired gentlemen lifted his hat. "Take care now!"

"You too! Thanks again!"

Daisuke began stuffing the sheet down into the messenger bag with the others, when Satoshi's cold voice made him stop.

"How do you do it, Niwa?"

"Huh?"

"How do you just…open up to people? Just trust them without ever thinking about it? I've always envied you for it. How you can practically make friends with a wall." His somber expression cracked a little. "You did with me."

"I don't know." The redhead folded his elbows on the wall and looked out at the sparkling ocean. After a moment, he shrugged. "I guess it's 'cause I have no other choice. I mean you can't go through life without ever trusting anyone. That would be…a depressing way to live." Daisuke tilted his head to the side as he thought. "So I'd rather choose to believe that there's always a potential friend in the making. It doesn't mean it'll always work out or that you don't get hurt, but…well it worked out with you, didn't it?"

"Yeah. It did. And I'm grateful for it." Satoshi bowed his head. "I just don't think I'll ever be that kind of person. There's…there's too much in the way. Too many other things I choose to believe, as well."

Daisuke frowned. Considering his friend's past, he couldn't really blame the young police commissioner. But how could Renée have turned out to be anything like his past?

"Hiwatari?"

"Hm?"

"This might sound silly, but…is there anyway you would give her a second chance?"

Satoshi laughed incredulously, wincing slightly when his head pounded in protest. "Really, Niwa! If you like her so much, maybe you should give Miss Harada a rest for a while."

Daisuke flushed the color of his hair in what must have been world-record timing.

"No, no! I didn't mean it like that! I would never do that to Miss Harada!" Satoshi grinned at his friend. The redhead's flustered fits never failed to entertain him. "I was just wondering. I'd hate to see you give up on something that made you so happy. I'd hate to see you isolate yourself again."

Still smiling, Satoshi looked out at the sea, feeling somewhat energized by the salty breeze blowing through his hair.

"How could I ever be isolated when you're around? That's impossible."

Daisuke grinned. "Would you?"

"Not without a miracle."

This probably wouldn't have been the answer most people would've hoped for, yet Daisuke turned his face into the wind with a newfound glow in his smile.

"Well, you never know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Please, Niwa, don't try and create a miracle."

"Why would I do that?"

"It doesn't matter. I'm telling you—don't. For the same reason I told you not to take fencing when you asked me what extra curricular classes you should sign up for. Just don't."


	12. The Black Wings

Jocelyn stared at the ceiling and listened to the curtains flap about the room like the sails of a tall ship. The wind blowing in through her bedroom window was cold and the tiny candle by her bedside struggled to stay alight. Judging by the way the wind chimes outside were clanging wildly in the gusts, a storm was blowing in off the ocean. She kept glancing towards the window, waiting to see the lightning illuminate the world for a single, purple second, but it never did.

Jocelyn sighed and absentmindedly combed her fingers through her deep, crimson hair. This was how she spent most of her restless nights: transfixed by the flickering candle shadows on the ceiling and listening to the night through her open window. Even when her body paralyzed itself in order to sleep, she never found that peaceful, dark realm of nothingness. It had been replaced by an intense, burning violet light. It didn't matter whether she was awake or resting; the colors of her world were bleeding like runny paints, flowing together into a thousand shades of lavender and periwinkle and cornflower blue.

Jocelyn closed her eyes, half-heartedly hoping the palette would change. In her last conscious moment, she swore she felt someone pulling her down and the brush of feathers against her skin.

_The air was thick with some sort of pearly mist. Jocelyn watched as tendrils of fog drifted past in swirling, unseen currents. There was a grey light coming from everywhere, muted by the dense, ghost-like haze._

_ Without really knowing how, she moved forward. She recognized a faint smell…something that reminded her of old books and their stained, ancient pages that cracked when you opened them. _

_ She stopped. Something dark flashed through the pearly mist, and then vanished. _

_ "It's been a while, Jocelyn." She looked over her shoulder, glimpsing the black shadow before it retreated back into the grey void. "I have to admit, you look so much better alive. You're quite beautiful, really." _

_ The angel stepped forth and Jocelyn let out a small gasp. He really wasn't remarkably large or tall, but his great wings made it seem so. The feathers at the top were pitch black, but they faded throughout the wingspan until the tips were a snowy, pure white. She remembered this, and she remembered the long, silver hair that flowed around his face. That impossibly beautiful face that looked as though it had been delicately chiseled from marble. _

_But she also saw things she did not remember, like the thick, green rope draped across his wrists and chest. As her eyes followed its length, she saw it tied to the hilt of a sword on his back. Upon seeing the weapon, Jocelyn frowned and took a step back._

_ The angel watched her curiously with those glimmering, silver eyes. "What is it?" _

You don't know what he's capable of! What he'll do to you—to me!

_Jocelyn took another step back. "What did you do to him?" _

_ "Ah, yes. You're last meeting with Master Satoshi did not go as…well, as I had hoped." _

_ Jocelyn's heart flew up into her mouth. For a moment, she thought she was going to be sick. "What do you mean? How do you know him?"_

_ The angel grasped one of his longer bangs and ran his hand down its length. "We used to live together. I shared his body, his life." _

He took their lives from them and gradually killed them.

_"It was not the way I would've preferred things, but there was no choice. For either of us. His curse was to endure me, and my fate was to be trapped inside him. I did not do it out of cruelty." Jocelyn saw him wince and he glanced away from her, as though distracted by something. "All right, fine, so that's not entirely true. I suppose I had a tendency to be…unkind at times." _

_ "Do what?" she whispered. "Do what out of cruelty?"_

_ His head swiveled back to her. Jocelyn blinked. It was almost as if he was looking at her through a completely different pair of eyes. They were the same gray they'd always been, but…_

_ "The commander's been through a lot of pain, thanks to our being forced to live together. In fact, he still carries a lot of it around with him. But that's where you come in handy, Jocelyn." _

_ Come in handy? She shook her head. It was like she was talking to two completely different people, which led her to wonder if angels could be bipolar._

_ In an instant the lighthearted tone was replaced by that darker, eloquent voice. "Please. I need your help. Master Satoshi needs your help."_

_ "Why?" she spat, her voice sounding harsh even to her. "You have the power to bring me back to life, but you can't apologize to a single boy?"_

_ "Apologize?" The angel's eyes narrowed. "He doesn't need to be apologized to, Jocelyn. He needs to be healed. The dark magic I left behind in him is still taking its toll, even as we speak. Even if I could approach him, do you really think he'd…?" His wings rustled softly behind him. "You saw it. The anguish in his eyes; the horror. It would drive him insane to see me again." Then, in that slightly altered voice, he muttered quietly to himself. "That's putting it nicely." _

_ Part of her wanted to believe the angel, yet Satoshi's strangled cry was a constant echo in her ears. His fear of this creature was real and not without reason._

_ "Why me?" _

_ "Because you have a heart for him." He smirked. When he spoke again, it was almost playfully. "What? It's not like it's a secret or anything. Practically the whole world knows you're in love with the guy. I need someone closest to his heart to do this for me." _

_ "Of course you do," Jocelyn whispered, a sparkling tear draining out of her eye. "I can break down his defenses for you, so you have a clear shot of where it'll hurt most to strike. Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not that person you need. I'm not his beloved, or even his friend anymore. I'm an adversary now; I'm just another soul that should never have existed in the first place."_

_ "Jocelyn—"_

_ "Why do you to this to him?" she shouted, her voice cracking. "Why can't you just leave him alone? That's all he wants!" _

_ The angel's grey eyes darkened. "Leave him alone and he dies of dark magic. But I can help you to heal him. Please, allow me to rectify—" _

_ "You can't rectify anything! Everything you've touched ends in ruin! Whether it's Satoshi's spirit or my pathetic, useless body—everything ends up broken!"_

_ His silvery wings flared. "Are you saying you'd rather let him die?" She froze. "Master Satoshi does not have much longer to live, Jocelyn. His body was never meant to accommodate me and it is suffering for it. His mind and heart have withstood more abuse than should be possible, but he grows weary. I have done my best to send you to him; you, the only person he has ever truly loved, in hopes that you may preserve his life and his happiness. But, if you will do neither…"_

_ He spread his wings and a sudden burst of cold wind blasted Jocelyn in the face. _

"_Then I will spare him his suffering."_

Lightning split the sky and thunder shattered through her open window. Jocelyn shot up, feeling the old house shudder around her. She blinked away her tears and glanced around the room. For a moment, she was convinced she had left the angel behind; a mere vision as tangible as mist.

Another flash of lightning illuminated the room in a terrible purple light, revealing the two feathers lying at the edge of her bed: one white, one black.


	13. Penitence

"Look, Daisuke. For each value that is x, it has a corresponding area function where it will be plotted on the graph, right?"

Daisuke was frowning at the mass of papers on the picnic table before them. The pencil he was holding had been chewed into oblivion, and Satoshi's neat side notes had become so many, it looked like he had bled lead all over the sheets.

"…so this equation is simply a derivative of x, which makes this, the area function, is the antiderivative. Make sense?"

Satoshi glanced up from the scribbles and looked at his friend. Three hours of tutoring had taken its toll.

"I—I think so," he said, frowning at the papers so hard Satoshi wondered if he was giving himself a headache. The redhead started hesitantly put his pencil to paper and started working another problem.

"It's really not that hard, once you get it," Satoshi said with a small smile, crossing his arms behind his head. "The theorem simply states that the sum of infinitesimal changes in a quantity over time, or whatever quantity, add up to the net change in the quantity."

Daisuke let his head fall onto the table with a loud _thud._ "Shut up. There is nothing simple about calculus theorems."

Satoshi chuckled. "Ready to call it a day, Niwa? Looks like rain is on its way anyway."

Daisuke sat up and breathed in the cool breeze. Looking up through the rustling tree canopy, he could see the dark swirls of thunderclouds drifting across the sky.

"Mm. The wind smells good. Hey, Hiwatari, are you all right?"

Satoshi clutched at his chest, wincing as a sharp pain racked through his body. The sting lasted only a moment, but he was afraid to move again.

"I…I don't know."

Daisuke watched worriedly as the other young man stood, very slowly. Satoshi turned and walked a few steps away, hiding his eyes beneath his periwinkle hair. He hadn't felt that kind of pain in a long time; as if a lightning bolt were trying to rip his body in half. Instinctively, he grasped at his shoulder.

"Hiwatari?"

"I'm fine. It was just a back spasm."

A fierce wind blew through the park and the myriad of papers flew through the air like a flock of albino butterflies. Satoshi watched them until the encroaching blackness in his vision swallowed the world.

Suddenly, he cried out. Something was burning through his back, like a bullet driving deeper and deeper before it burst through his chest. Then came that searing bolt of unbearable pain.

"Hiwatari!" Daisuke managed to catch his friend before he hit the ground, leaves and papers swirling in a violent vortex around them. "Hiwatari, what's wrong?"

"Re—Renée…"

Satoshi's body went limp in Daisuke's hands and the heavens let loose a silver sheet of rain.


	14. She Wept For the Angel

_Don't you dare. _

The rain battered against her face like icy needles and made the hand rims of her wheelchair slippery. Yet despite its hindrance, she was grateful for the torrential downpour. It helped her to ignore her own tears.

_Please, don't do this. _

Propelling herself furiously along the sidewalk, Jocelyn replayed the phone conversation with Daisuke over in her head.

* * *

_"Renée!" The panicked shout in his voice scared her. "You have to come quick! It's Hiwatari."_

_ "What? What happened?"_

_ "I dunno. We were at the park and he just collapsed, but he asked for you. Why would he ask for you?"_

_ She almost heard her heart hit the floor. "I…I don't know."_

_ "Please, Renée, you have to help! I'd call the paramedics, but…"_

_ "But what?"_

_ "Just, knowing Hiwatari, there's…it might complicate things. There has to be something you can do! There has to be some reason he wants you!" _

_ An awful stinging slashed through her throat. "Where is he now?"_

_ "I got him back to his apartment. He's still unconscious, but I—I don't know what to do. I've seen him ill before, but never like this. Like he's…"_

_

* * *

_

Jocelyn clicked her teeth together so hard she thought a few might have cracked. She couldn't bring herself to tell Daisuke that she was just as helpless as he. As she strained to gather momentum uphill, she cursed her useless legs. If only she could run. If only she could pound her feet into the ground and tear into the wind, just to expel the reckless hate that was fuming inside of her.

She finally rounded the hilltop, breathless and soaked, and turned into the apartment complex. A bolt of lightning struck nearby and the crackling thunder rippled throughout the sky.

_Stop it!_

Jocelyn pulled her drenched hair from her face, wondering whom she thought she was talking to. She steadily made her way up the ramp to the second floor, wheeled to the door numbered 217 and stopped. There were still wet footprints on the carpet just outside the door.

She knocked. "Daisuke!"

The door flung open and a pair of huge, distraught eyes filled her vision.

"Renée! You're soaked."

"I'm fine." She searched his face. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm all right. Come on, I'll get you a towel."

She wheeled slowly past him into the dim, colorless apartment. The heavy door shut behind her, immersing the room into a bleak darkness.

It suddenly occurred to her that in all the time she had known Satoshi, not once had he ever invited her to see where he lived. Now she almost understood why. It reminded her of a museum: cold, bleak, and yet beautiful. Like winter. Like him.

The hallway opened up into a tiled room with a massive balcony window at one end, and a small kitchen at the other. His artwork collection rivaled that of the most historic art museums in London. The sheer number of paintings on the walls alone was staggering. There were glass columns that housed marble sculptures, mosaics, sketches, photographs, pottery, and even glass cabinets of jewelry. Sitting alone in the giant room, gawking at the artwork around her, Jocelyn started to wonder if she had ever known Satoshi at all.

"Here." Daisuke handed her a towel, but she never took it.

"How is he?"

"Not so good. He's burning a pretty good fever. I don't know what happened. All of a sudden he just cried out and fell to the ground. He's upstairs now."

_Of course he is_. Jocelyn wheeled over to the impressive staircase with Daisuke close behind her.

"You have some idea of what happened, don't you?"

_Master Satoshi does not have much longer to live. _

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "I can't promise anything. You should probably call the hospital, anyway. Just in case."

"But—"

"Daisuke. Please."

Seeing the tears glistening in her eyes, the redhead reluctantly nodded. He carefully reached down, threw one of her arms across his shoulders and helped carry her up the stairs.

"Do you…do you think he could die?" Daisuke asked quietly.

Jocelyn was quiet for a moment. "Yes."

The second floor was even darker than the first, with all the windows draped and lights dimmed. Daisuke carried her into a dark room with blue-gray walls. Her eyes immediately darted to the bed beneath the bay window, where a petite figure lay swathed in the sheets.

Daisuke grabbed the chair from a nearby desk and brought it over to the bedside. Jocelyn sat and went very still, the sound of raspy, thick breathing sending chills down her spine.

"Satoshi."

The blue-haired boy was deathly pale, his skin glossy with sweat. Slowly, she peeled the covers away from his damp skin, exposing his soft, white shoulders. When she saw his back, she let out a small gasp.

"Renée—" Daisuke took a step forward. "Renée, there's something you should know about Hiwatari."

The sight of the scars summoned a fresh wave of tears. Lining either side of his spine were black, charred chasms cut deep into his skin, as if he had been cut and burned at the same time. Jocelyn buried her face in her hands. There was no mistaking the wounds. They were exactly where wings would've been.

"How could you do this?" she breathed. "How could you ever expect me to mend this?"

Daisuke frowned. "What?"

"Not you."

She gently reached out, hesitant to put her fingers on his skin. The moment she brushed against his back, a cold voice slashed through her mind.

_He's mine._

Jocelyn jerked her hand away and a cold, merciless anger rushed over her. "You don't deserve him."

When the angel didn't reply, she gently grasped one of Satoshi's hands. Almost immediately, his smooth voice filled her head.

_Neither do you. _

"I would never hurt him. I would never think to take his life!"

_You don't understand. You can't see his life as I do—he is filled with extraordinary pain and fear. _

"Pain and fear because of you! Look what you've done to him!"

_Yes, and I could never want him to live that way. My sins may never be forgiven, but at least he can be spared. It will be a burden I bear alone, in my eternal nonexistence._

"But there's so much more to him." Jocelyn ran her hand through Satoshi's hair. "He is afraid. Afraid of being hurt again. But he's also being unbelievably strong. He's trying so hard to change…to leave you behind and live freely. If people could see past the scarred introvert, they'd see that he's such a gift...such a beautiful gift to this world, it would be a sin to take him from it."

The angel said nothing for a very long time.

_Leave, Jocelyn. There is nothing you can do now._

"No! You can't do this! Please, don't!" She pressed her forehead against the dying boy's and wept. "Please! Let go of him!"

_Jocelyn…_

With a start, she realized that she wept for the angel. "I know he's everything to you, and I also know how terrified you must be to think of losing that. And I hate that one of us has to lose him today. But in all fairness…he belongs in this world. Even if it is for a short time, and even if that means you have to sacrifice the magic you instilled in me. Just…please…" She choked back a mouthful of tears. "Let him live."

"Renée. Look."

Jocelyn felt Daisuke's gentle hand on her back. Blinking away her tears, she watched as the black scars on his back began to fade until they were nothing more than thin, silver lines against his skin. Placing a hand against Satoshi's cheek, she smiled when she felt cool skin.

The playful, lighthearted voice spoke.

_You know, not even magic can bring back people from the dead, unless it's meant to be. You lovebirds must be the reincarnation of Romeo and Juliet. And I always was a sap for romantics. _

She chuckled.

_Take care of him. There's no else in this world that deserves your heart more._

His periwinkle eyes fluttered open and from the look he gave her, Jocelyn could tell he had somehow heard everything. With a nimble finger, he reached up and brushed away the last of her tears.

"Hiwatari, you jerk!" Both of them gawked at Daisuke, who was a flushed shade of pink. "You can't keep pulling stunts like that! Every time you do it takes another year off my lifespan. I swear, I'm gonna have white hairs by the time I'm 25! What the heck was that all about anyway?"

Satoshi laughed.

Jocelyn drank in the sound she had waited so long to hear.

"Niwa." The redhead stopped when he saw the smile in his friend's eyes. "Dark says hi."

* * *

**A/N: Eh, hate/love relationship with this chapter. It's kinda cliche, a little predictable and corny, but here it is. And excuse my awful chapter names. Alternative suggestions would be fun! =D **


	15. Never The Same

It turns out that being the subject of a tug-o-war game between an illusory angel and your self-sacrificing girlfriend means you'll never look at the world the same way again.

You walk by bronze statues in the city square and wonder if you would've left such a prominent footprint in the world, had you died. You brush your finger against the velvet of a rose petal and wonder how badly you would've missed its rich color. The gulls cry overhead, and you wonder how much time would've passed before you forget their sound completely.

There are still days when I wonder if he's perched upon some church spire or haunting the corridors of the art museum downtown. Yet that cold, rainy day was the last day I knew he would ever grace the edges of this world. The grey angel, as Jocelyn called him, never returned to either of us ever again.

Much to Niwa's disappointment. We spent the rest of that night in my apartment explaining to each other what had happened. Jocelyn recounted her near-death experience to us, and Niwa and I told her of Dark and Krad. By the time dawn was beginning to break, we were all sitting on the floor in awed silence. Then, Niwa smiled and said, 'I wish I could've seen him.'

He never looked at Jocelyn the same way again. Not in a bad way, but from that point on whenever he saw her, his eyes lit up like rubies, as if she walked on water. I suppose I did too, but for different reasons.

Jocelyn still teaches at the little run-down building on the side street and plays with the local orchestra from time to time. She only goes by Renée now, though if we're alone, I'll sidestep the rule just to grab her attention. The little warning scowl she gives is almost as pretty as her smile. Almost.

Now, sitting here on the beach and watching her float in the waves, I can't help but marvel at her indifference. As if nothing ever happened. Despite all she's seen and heard, she seems content to simply play her cello and swim in the ocean and live. Live freely for the moment, for her happiness, and for some ungodly reason that I have yet to understand, for me. And to know that there's someone in the world that lives for you, that's happy just because you're there…well, let's just say Niwa would never let me hear the end of it.

Jocelyn hauled herself out of the water, crimson hair dripping with diamonds that glinted gold in the setting sun. She stopped a few feet from me, having seen the small grin on my face.

"What?" she asked curiously.

I shook my head and invited her into my open arms. Almost cautiously, she dragged herself into my reach, and then I grabbed her and hugged her close to my chest.

"Oh. That's what."

I grinned and pressed my lips into her hair. "Thank you."

She shifted around to look up at me, drenched strands of hair clinging to her pale cheek. Staring into those scarlet eyes, I questioned the angel's words. How could I possibly deserve such a beautiful soul? How could I ask for her loving heart, when all I had to offer was my scarred, guarded one?

"For what?"

"For letting me surrender to you."

I didn't give her much time to think about what I meant, because in truth, even I didn't know. With my throbbing heart urging me on, I closed my eyes and gently kissed her. Neither of us so much as breathed at first, but then I felt her fingers trailing up into my hair and her soft mouth working against mine. In the middle of the kiss, I started to smile.

Jocelyn pulled away. "What is it?"

I couldn't help but chuckle. "You taste like salt."

She rolled her eyes and flushed a bright red that would've put the sun to shame. As she started to back away, I redirected her with a gentle hand on her cheek.

"It's a good thing," I told her and leaned in a second time, already missing the flavor of her lips.

It's a good thing.

* * *

**A/N: The End! Bless you guys for reading this entire thing! I hope you guys enjoyed it; it's certainly not perfect and I can see some chapters that will probably get a total re-write someday, but it was fun to do! Feedback and reviews are always appreciated, welcome, and wanted! **


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